


Balancing

by BobbySinger (wylf_storm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Caring!Dean, Fluff, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Massaging, Post Season 8, shameless schmoopy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylf_storm/pseuds/BobbySinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was clumsy, no two ways about it. Ever since Dean got the call from him saying he was somewhere in Wisconsin and could he please come get him, he’d been on permanent kiddie watch because Castiel couldn’t go a full day without falling over, stumbling or bumping into something.</p><p>Shameless schmoopy stuff shhhh</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balancing

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even remember how long I've had this lying around, but at last, success!

Dean always thought that Angels were the epitome of grace and strength, but from what Castiel kept getting into, he was starting to rethink his opinion.

  
Castiel was clumsy, no two ways about it. Ever since Dean got the call from him saying he was somewhere in Wisconsin and could he please come get him, he’d been on permanent kiddie watch because Castiel couldn’t go a full day without falling over, stumbling or bumping into something.

  
It had gotten to the point where Dean had taken it upon himself to accompany Castiel wherever he went around the bunker because he needed someone to shadow him as he walked. Sam wasn’t up to the task, and even if he was Dean wouldn’t have let him do it. Dean felt like he was making it up to Castiel, catching him when he fell and picking him up again like he had done so many times before for Dean.

  
“Hey, watch it Cas!” Dean caught a hold of his shoulder before he could topple over into the coffee table.

  
“Thank you, Dean.” He murmured, continuing through the lounge towards Sam’s room. Sam had been having regular balance – Dean referred to them as yoga because what the hell else was standing on one leg? - sessions with Cas, trying to get his coordination to kick in. Both Winchesters figured Cas was so wobbly because his Angel mojo wasn’t keeping him upright and intimidating anymore and he would have to learn how to balance himself, the way a normal human would learn when they started walking. The only difference was that Cas was several millennia late learning.

  
Dean happily let Sam do the teaching while he sat and watched, and occasionally demonstrated though he had some objections about doing suspiciously yoga-like poses. Sam’s current mission was to get Cas to pat his head and rub his stomach at the same time, but it was proving more difficult for him than he had anticipated.

  
“In theory I should be able to do this in the opposite way as well, yes? Patting my stomach and rubbing my head?” Castiel asked, taking a hand off his thoroughly mussed hair after a few minutes of frustration, during which Dean had to leave the room to stop laughing at the disgruntled expression on Cas’s face.

  
“Technically, yeah. Stick to basics first though Cas, okay?” Dean was leaning against the desk in Sam’s room, the chair at which Sam occupied.

  
“Dean’s right Cas, just stick to this for now. Like you did for standing on one leg. Pat your head with your right hand, it’ll be easier because that’s your dominant hand.” Sam instructed, sipping his coffee that Dean had fetched for him.

  
Castiel struggled with the exercise for a few more minutes before Sam sent him out, meaning that Dean followed him.

  
Thinking that Cas would be okay for a few moments at least, Dean shot into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Dude couldn’t get into that much trouble, right?

  
A resounding crash and a muffled yelp came from the general direction where Dean had left Cas, and Dean sighed mightily before going to inspect the damage. Castiel was sitting on the floor, gingerly rubbing his foot where it must have kicked into the corner of the couch, tripping him up.

  
“Come on buddy, up you get.” Dean put his hands under Castiel’s arms and pulled him to his feet before pushing him down onto the offending couch.

  
“I’m perfectly capable of standing up myself.” Castiel protested, looking put out.

  
“My ass you are, you can walk about as straight as a drunk college student on a Friday night. Stay put.” Dean grabbed an icepack from the freezer to put on Castiel’s foot to reduce any swelling before returning to the lounge area where Castiel was, thankfully, where he had left him.

  
Dean thought about tossing him the icepack, but stopped himself when it kicked in who he was dealing with. No way in hell was Cas going to be able to catch a book-sized object moving through the air towards him. Instead, Dean sat on the couch at a right angle to the one Cas had tripped on, gently picked up Castiel’s foot and put in in his lap, placing the icepack against Cas’s toes, bemoaning his bare feet.

  
“Cas, if you just wore shoes or even socks at least, you wouldn’t bash your feet up half as much. We should get you some boots,” He mused, ignoring Castiel’s initial twitch at the touch of the cold object to his foot.

  
Castiel tilted his head inquisitorially, looking at the icepack.

  
“I’ve never been so aware of temperature changes before.” He announced, flexing his ankle and wiggling his toes. Dean suppressed a smile at the twitching digits, because when did he find things like this cute? Since when did he find anything cute?

  
While moving his foot around, Cas’s pants had hitched up a little around his ankle and when Dean looked down he could see the dark shape of a bruise forming.  
“Woah Cas, what happened?” He asked, pushing the fabric of his pants up around his shins to better examine the mark.

  
Castiel shifted uncomfortably but Dean held his leg in place. “Cas, tell me. Is that another one?” He pushed Cas’s pants leg up to his knee, exposing several more small bruises and a scraped knee just starting to scab over.

  
“Is this from you tripping up all the time?”

  
“Dean, really-“ Dean silenced him with a look, still holding the icepack to his foot. Castiel sighed. “Yes.”

  
“Cas…” Dean whined, drawing out the syllable. “Why didn’t you say something? I knew you were a klutz but I didn’t think it was that bad.” Dean gently ran his hand over the reddened skin on Cas’s leg, making him shiver lightly. “Sorry, they must hurt. Hang on, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t you dare shift your ass off this couch,” Dean warned, interpreting Castiel’s shiver as one of pain.

  
If he had been looking at his face instead of inspecting the bruises, he might have seen Castiel’s eyes widen at his gentle touch, but he turned his back and left the room, heading for one of the overhead cupboards in the kitchen where they left the medical supplies. He returned shortly with a tub of something that smelt faintly of eucalyptus.

“It’s bruise cream,” Dean explained handing Castiel the tub. “I’ll let you put it on ‘cause I don’t want to stab at your bruises. Don’t get it on your scrape though, it’ll sting like a bitch.”

  
Castiel nodded in comprehension before starting to coat the cream on his leg, which Dean had pulled back into his lap when he returned. Dean kept the icepack in place on Castiel’s foot while the other man worked, carefully avoiding the raw patch on his knee like Dean had advised him.

  
Dean shifted the icepack to check if Cas’s foot was going to do anything particularly ugly. There was the faint rise of a lump from where he tangled with the couch, but it didn’t look like it would bruise. “If you’ve got any others, slap some of that on them too.”

  
Castiel blinked before rolling up his opposite pants leg to reveal his other leg was in a similar state to the first. “Would you be able to do the ones on my back? I can’t reach them.” He asked quietly, almost shyly.

  
Dean sighed resignedly and Castiel immediately backtracked on his words, now rubbing the ointment on several blue-black marks on his forearms.  
“No, no, you don’t have to, I just wondered, I don’t-“

  
“Cas, just give me the damn cream already.” Dean held out his hand for it, and gently placed Cas’s icepacked foot on the coffee table as he stood and rounded the back of the couch. “I can’t reach them with your shirt on, Cas. You’re gonna have to get a little cold for a while.”

  
Castiel’s eyes widened a little, but Dean but it down to anticipation of the cold. The bunker wasn’t the warmest place in the world, but the brothers had enough clothing to keep both themselves and Castiel at a comfortable temperature.

  
Castiel hesitated for a moment before reaching a hand up to his collar and deliberately unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and pulling his arms out of the sleeves, baring his back for Dean.

  
Castiel leapt away from Dean’s gentle fingers with a gasp at the first touch, but at Dean’s reassurance and one hand on his shoulder, he settled back down and permitted Dean to keep rubbing the cream into the bruised skin.

  
“How the hell did you even manage to get bruises on your back Cas?” He asked as he ran his hands over the purple, blue and yellow marks.

 

“Stairs can be… quite unforgiving.”

  
“Jesus, Cas, you fell down fucking stairs? When?” Dean stilled his hand and leaned around Castiel’s shoulder to look at him in disbelief.

  
The ex-angel shrugged slightly and looked a little sheepish. “I had to get up in the night a few days ago… It was raining rather heavily, but I tripped and fell down.”

  
“That one? But- shit! That wasn’t thunder, that was you! Fuckin’ hell Cas, why didn’t you come get me? You could have broken something!”

  
Castiel’s words were quiet. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  
Dean scowled, though his hands were still gentle on Castiel’s back. There was hardly any space he hadn’t covered, but he couldn’t stop himself from simply tracing the lines and contours of Castiel’s muscles under the pretense of rubbing in the cream. “Cas, you wouldn’t have bothered me. If you were hurt I’d want to know about it. Honestly, you’re not a burden, I’m tryna’ help you here.”

  
“But I’m not in any way productive! What do I have to offer to you, Sam or Kevin that is possibly useful in any way? I’m human, I’m.. I’m fragile and breakable and I can’t help you do anything.” Castiel dropped his head and Dean resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. “I’m wasting your time and energies.” He mumbled.

  
Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder in one hand and shifted his face around with the other so that Castiel was looking at him. It was an awkward angle, but Dean didn’t care.

  
“You listen to me Cas, you are not a waste of space. You’ve saved my- our asses more times than I can actually remember and got us out of a whole pile of shit that was never your problem to deal with. No, look at me Castiel!”

  
Castiel tried to move his head out of Dean’s grip, but Dean practically held him in a headlock until he looked back up at him.

  
“You are not useless. You have done more that enough for us, and it’s about damn time we did something for you, so please, just let us help you, Cas. I… You’re my friend Cas, and I don’t want you to keep getting hurt.”

  
Dean held Castiel’s gaze, and almost seemed to get lost in those baby blues. He felt like they could still see through him even though there was no mojo for Cas to use on him. He watched as Castiel tilted his head in that way that Dean found really endearing.

  
“I understand, Dean.”

  
He shook his head to regain his senses, and realized that he still had his arm wrapped around Cas’s neck. He quickly let go and pulled back so that he was resting his elbows on the back of the couch and resumed mapping Castiel’s back. He made sure to go over some of the actual bruised areas as well as just touching the ex-angel.

  
Dean was developing a small fascination with his shoulderblades, and the way they buckled inwards a bit, almost like they were making space for where wings should go. Dean passed his hand over them, pressing down and almost massaging them. Cas made a strangled noise that sounded like it had been a moan before he cut it off, and Dean repeated the action. He was rewarded with another less well-disguised moan, and kept up with it until Castiel’s shoulders relaxed completely underneath his hands and he had given up trying to disguise his noises of pleasure.

  
“I’m fairly certain there were no bruises there, Dean.”

  
Dean blushed and pulled his hands away, wiping them on his jeans to get rid of the residual cream that made them slippery. Cas turned his head and saw Dean’s sheepish look as he sat back down on the adjacent couch.

  
“It’s okay Dean. Thank you, that was… wonderful.”

  
He ducked his head as Castiel pulled his shirt over his arms and began to button it up again.

  
“No problem, Cas.” He replied, avoiding looking at the other man. Sam emerged from his room and headed to the kitchen, probably in search of food, and Dean couldn’t help himself. “I had to pick up my magic fingers from somewhere!” He raised his voice so that Sam would be sure to hear.

  
“Jerk, you’re disgusting!”

  
“But you love me, bitch!” Dean chuckled, then shook his head at Castiel’s questioning look. “It’s nothing, Cas.”

  
“It’s a sick obsession he has, don’t let him corrupt you.” Sam leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, and raised his eyebrows at Castiel over the top of his sandwich.

  
“I don’t understand… I find the massaging to be relaxing, not repulsive.” Castiel tilted his head at Sam, and Dean whooped, clapping his hands together.  
“Hah! You see? It’s only you who has a problem with it!”

  
“No, but Cas got the personalized version, not the full body treatment that you pay for. That is the part I have a problem with.”

  
Castiel flushed and gesticulated vaguely at Dean. “You pay someone to… all over your… _everywhere_?”

  
Dean looked at Sam and they both sank into raucous peals of laughter as Castiel blushed even harder, the tops of his ears turning red to match his cheeks.  
“No, Cas, no! You don’t pay a person to do that, you lie on a bed that does it.” He choked out between laughs, clutching his ribs. “Jesus, I don’t think anyone would want to do that on someone if it was _everywhere_.”

  
Sam brushed his hair back off his face from where it had fallen as he laughed, and straightened up again. “Well, if we’re done here, I’ve got resear- rest! Rest to be getting back to.” He changed his mind halfway when Dean shot him a glare. Dean insisted that Sam rest as much as possible, but it was harder than he had first expected to get his brother to lie down and take care of himself, no matter how many times Dean had pointed out he needed it if he wanted to get back into hunting again.

  
“So help me Sammy, if I come in there and find you sitting at your desk reading something that isn’t a novel I’m going to throw it out the window and lock the library.”

  
Dean continued to hold Sam’s eyes until the taller Winchester heaved a long-suffering sigh and waved a hand in resignation before moving to his room and closing the door. Dean rounded on Castiel the moment Sam left the room.

  
“You, on the other hand, I have zero problems with you reading because I don’t want you walking on that foot yet. You want me to get you anything?” He picked up the icepack off Cas’s foot to inspect the damage done. There was a sizeable purple mark nearer to his toes, and Dean prodded at the digits, making Castiel hiss.  
“You know, I think you might even have broken your pinkie toe there Cas. Good job, I don’t know anyone half as clumsy as you!” Dean patted his shin and smiled broadly.

  
“Dean, how is that a good thing?”

 

“Just go with it Cas.”

  
Dean hunted around in the first aid kit that he had left on the table, and carefully bound Castiel’s end two toes together with medical tape he found there. During the process, Castiel yelped and grabbed Dean’s shoulder with one hand. He started apologizing immediately and made to take it away again, but Dean interrupted him.

  
“It’s fine, just leave it.”

  
Castiel relaxed as much as possible with his battered toes being pushed around, and gripped Dean’s shoulder a little more tightly whenever he did something particularly painful. It was a system that worked, and Dean mumbled quiet apologies whenever it happened. He finished up with a flourish and smiled at Castiel. “All done, buddy. I’ll get another icepack for you, this one’s gone warm and for Christ’s sake, don’t move. Leave your foot up on the table, okay?”

  
Dean returned in record time, his mothering instincts kicking in and screaming at him that he should never have left Castiel alone by himself, he’s probably walking around on his foot and doing more damage to it, he’ll paralyze himself-

  
Castiel looked up curiously when he heard Dean come crashing back from the kitchen. He was still on the couch, foot resting on the coffee table, right where Dean had left him. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief at small miracles and handed Castiel the new icepack.

  
“What book d’you want to read – I’ll go get it for you. Or would you rather watch TV or something? ‘Cause I don’t want you walking around on that foot of yours yet, keep it up and chill out for a while.”

  
Dean shifted a little under the searching look that Castiel gave him before gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “There’s a book on my bedside table. If you could get that for me, I would be grateful.”

  
Dean got a book for himself while he was up, an old battered Vonnegut that he’d read a couple of times already but never seemed to get tired of, and returned to his place on the couch without really looking at Castiel’s reading material. When he sat down and Castiel murmured his thanks, he got a look at the cover and nearly choked.

  
“’Gangster Granny’? You’re reading a book called ‘ _Gangster Granny_ ’?”

  
Castiel looked mildly offended, but Dean didn’t care. This was his friend, a celestial being who was thousands of years old, and he was reading a children’s book? The universe was more out of whack than he wanted to know about.

  
“It’s very entertaining.” Castiel said defensively, snatching the book from Dean’s hands. “The grandma is actually and international jewel thief and the book also shares her recipe for cabbage cake, although I suspect it may be false because as far as I know leaving a cake to go stale for a month until the smell of cabbage fills your house is not a conventional method of baking.”

“Oh, you think?” Dean shook his head and buried himself in his Vonnegut. It was barely midday, too early for this kind of crap.

  
Castiel gave a non-committal hum and returned to his book. Dean was at least ninety seven percent sure that the ex-angel could have finished it in less than two hours, but was taking his time reading. Dean got through a chapter of his own book before getting up and throwing another book from Castiel’s room down on the coffee table. “Don’t pace yourself on my account.” He raised the book to obscure his face, knowing that it was childish, but he didn’t want to see Castiel’s reaction. Dean was allowed to be perceptive when he wanted, dammit.

  
The rest of the day passed with Castiel finishing both books, and Dean getting him various things to entertain himself, even when Castiel protested that he would be fine and would rather help Dean with researching the latest case. He got shot down by both Dean and Sam on that one, the third time Castiel suggested it.

  
“Cas, no. You’ve just smashed your foot up and even if you bribed me to get you the books, I wouldn’t because then you’d tell me that you should do the actual hunting because you researched it. No, Cas.”

  
“Seconded!” Sam’s muffled yell came out through the door as Dean forced himself up off the couch and out of Castiel’s reach with the books.

  
“Thank you! See, Sam agrees with me.” Dean looked smug, then glared at the door. “Hey, you’re supposed to be sleeping!”

  
Sam leveled a bitchface at him when he opened the door to his room and shuffled out in the direction of the kitchen. “I did, but I’m not nocturnal Dean and I gotta eat. Did you make anything?”

  
He had, and after calling down Kevin and feeding the group before Kevin vanished into the bunker again, he permitted them to watch TV for a couple of hours, before he declared an end to the day.

  
“Okay, playtime’s over, get your asses into bed. Actually, Cas don’t move. I’m going to help you get there. Sam, beat it, you can walk fine on your own.”

  
Sam rolled his eyes and slouched away into his room, calling out a “Goodnight!” before shutting his door. Castiel turned his eyes to Dean and made to stand up by himself.

  
“Dammit Cas, I told you I’d help you there!” Dean hovered as Castiel straightened up, using the edge of the couch for balance. He attempted to walk on his injured foot, but hissed in pain and stumbled until Dean grabbed hold of his shoulders.

  
“If you’re done with your testing boundaries, then I’m going to get you to bed Cas. You’re on the mend now too, so at least try to sleep, okay?” Dean was too busy pulling Castiel’s arm around his shoulder and slipping an arm around his waist to notice the blush that crept into Castiel’s cheeks at the implication in his words. Dean tugged more of Castiel’s weight onto himself as he practically lifted him to his room, avoiding obstacles in their way by Dean lifting Castiel full off the ground and around them.

  
“Dean, I don’t need you to carry me, I can get there on my own,” Castiel protested, but Dean gave him a look and he shut up about it and continued to let Dean help him along. Dean wasn’t to know that Cas thought it felt nice to have the weight of Dean’s arm settled around his waist, or that he liked that he was close enough to smell the spice of Dean’s scent on his skin either.

  
Dean slipped out from under Castiel’s arm when they reached the edge of his bed, and rummaged around in his drawers before tossing a pair of pyjamas at him.  
“If you need to get up in the night throw something at my wall to wake me up and I’ll come help you around. No, don’t give me that look, I’m a light sleeper and I don’t want you breaking anything else. I still can’t believe you fell down the stairs and didn’t tell me…” He sighed and shook his head fondly at Castiel, who stubbornly refused to look apologetic.

  
Dean left him to himself and Castiel didn’t call for him in the night, and Dean believed him the next morning when he said that he hadn’t actually got up. The rest of the week passed with Dean hovering even more than usual around Castiel whenever he stood to go somewhere – but only if he absolutely needed to, because he should be resting, Sammy! – and generally flitting around the general area that Castiel occupied. He eased up when Castiel declared that he either stopped waiting outside the bathroom door or he was going to take food in there with him next time and not come out. Dean continued to apply the cream to the myriad of bruises that dotted Castiel’s back, and also failed to notice the way Castiel completely relaxed as soon as Dean’s hand made contact with his skin the last couple of times, and he wasn’t the only one who was slightly disappointed when the marks faded away and no longer needed to be looked at. When the bandage finally came off Castiel’s foot, Dean forced Castiel into a pair of slippers that wouldn’t squash his toe too much, and wouldn’t let him walk around with them on so that he had at least a mild protection from other threatening household objects.

  
Eventually, Dean stopped making him return to his room to put the slippers on, and Castiel’s toe returned to it’s normal size and colour, although Dean maintained that it was still a little crooked if you squinted hard enough. His habit of lingering around Castiel hadn’t faded, however. If anything, the toe incident made him even more vigilant in his watching, to the point where he even started ignoring Sam’s snide stalker comments. Castiel’s balance lessons picked up again, although he still couldn’t manage to overcome the obstacle that patting his head and rubbing his stomach simultaneously provided. Sam insisted that he should be able to do it, and worked on it each time they had to improve his balance. And gradually, it did. A month and a half after the toe incident, Castiel could balance on one leg, hop, walk a narrow straight line without wobbling, as well as stand on one leg like Superman in mid-flight and (much to Dean’s amusement) hold a tree pose. Dean had even come back in one day after slipping out for a bathroom break to find Cas doing a handstand with his feet resting against the wall while he got the feel of being upside down.

  
“Damn, you’ve come a long way from the baby in a trenchcoat you used to be Cas.” He remarked, leaning against the doorframe with practiced ease. Castiel tried and failed to look serious upside down, and Dean only just managed to catch his feet as he swung them off the wall and fell onto his back. “You know, I’m thinking I’ll reconsider that statement until further notice.” He straightened up, while Sam stretched and Castiel pushed himself up off the ground.

  
“Alright, who’s ready for some food? If you answered ‘not me’, you can piss off now and I’ll eat yours because I made burgers.”

  
Dean smiled when both Cas and Sam’s faces slackened, knowing that he made, without a doubt, the best burgers. He hollered for Kevin who insisted on privacy either in the library or his room, and when Dean shouted at him again telling him what exactly dinner was, he ran down the stairs with his eyes wide. It hadn’t taken long for Dean’s reputation in the kitchen to spread among the few inhabitants of the bunker. The meal was eaten in almost silence, aside from a few rather erotic moans from Castiel’s corner and multiple pleased sighs from Sam and Kevin. Dean was forcibly pushed away from the sink when he attempted to wash up, and Sam stepped in to fill his place there. He was rendered unnecessary again when Kevin brandished a tea towel like a weapon at him when he reached for one of his own. Dean raised his hands in surrender, and denied that they twitched downwards in anticipation of a flick from the tea towel before leaving and quickly searching for Castiel before he could get himself into more trouble.

  
His latest venture was to explore every inch of the bunker, and Dean was honestly surprised that he hadn’t tried to start his quest sooner – there was a whole damn lot of bunker to get through. He found Castiel at the bottom of the short flight of stairs that led up to what he was fairly certain were a couple of laboratories and various hallways the branched off into the distance.

  
“Going wanderin’ again Cas?” Dean grabbed a torch off a nearby table when Castiel nodded, and handed it to the other man. “We don’t know how far the power stretches or if the lights’ll work the further away we get from the generator. You got your knife on you?” Castiel nodded again and rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt up at his hip to show the knife tucked carefully into the waistband of his pants and Dean patted him on the shoulder. “All set then. Let’s move out.”

  
“You’re being paranoid Dean, anything that might have taken up residence in here would have left the second they smelled you and Sam arrive. Winchester is a rather infamous name, if you remember.” Castiel said over his shoulder as they climbed and Dean chuckled.

  
“You can’t blame me for being cautious, and I’m going to say I told you so if you have to use that knife.”

  
They walked side by side through the corridors, peering into each new room as they passed it, Dean occasionally leaving bits of tape on the doorways if he wanted to find the room again. He was more than happy to loiter when Castiel found a music room complete with a dusty grand piano and stacks of sheet music and insisted on testing it out. Dean had no idea how Castiel knew how to play the piano, but wasn’t going to contest it. Castiel beat out a couple of songs before gently closing the lid and following Dean back out into the hallway again.

  
Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the stray corner of peeling carpet in front of him that Castiel neatly stepped over, and instead blundered into it, catching his foot in a loop of thread and falling forward. He jerked to a halt before he could reach the floor however, and looked up into Castiel’s concerned eyes as he was helped back to his feet.

  
“Are you all right, Dean?” He asked, quickly scanning his body for any injuries.

  
“Yeah Cas, I’m fine. Thanks.” He let out a whoosh of breath and blinked a couple of times to get his head back on straight. “Close call there. Nice catch, by the way. You’ve definitely got better with your coordination.” Castiel looked sheepish and Dean frowned. “What?”

  
“I’m not as uncoordinated as you think, Dean.”

  
“What do you mean - that you caught me? Yeah, that was good of you but I’m not getting the point.”

  
“No, I mean all the time. I don’t actually trip over things, I… I walk into them on purpose.”

  
Dean was very confused by this point, and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “What, so you like hurting yourself now or what?”

  
“No, I definitely don’t. I’ve only been doing it for a week or so, not from the beginning if that’s what you think. I actually was that unbalanced when I broke my toe, but only recently did I start faking it. Look,” Castiel raised his hand to his head and put the other on his stomach, and promptly began patting his head and rubbing his stomach in front of Dean in the middle of the hall. “I’ve known how for weeks now,” he admitted, lowering his hands again and blushing.

  
“But… why? What for?” Dean was thrilled that Castiel wasn’t a walking danger zone, but where had this come from? Why would he hide something like this from them?

  
“If I showed you, then you’d stop walking with me.” Castiel spoke the words to his feet.

  
Oh. _Oh_. It was Dean’s turn to blush then, and he scuffed his feet a couple of times. “Cas, you didn’t think I was going to abandon you, did you? ‘Cause I wouldn’t. And honestly? You haven’t actually needed watching for ages now, I just liked walking with you.”

  
It was worth admitting to see the amazed smile that crept onto Castiel’s face at his words.

  
“I liked walking but… you make it much better.” Castiel waited for Dean to raise his eyes again, and held them until they both smiled. Dean huffed a breath out his nose and scuffed his boot on the carpet.

  
“It’s getting late, we should get to bed. You want to head back down?” Castiel nodded, and Dean held his hand out for Castiel to take before he could think about it too much and stop himself. He sighed inaudibly when a warm palm fitted against his and fingers laced themselves into the spaces he had left for them. It felt like he had been waiting for that single moment for longer than he could remember. He threw all his chips into one basket after his initial success, and tugged Castiel closer by his hand to fit their lips together.

  
It was by no means his longest kiss, or his best placed, but to Dean it was perfect. Castiel’s lips fitted against his own exactly, and he wasn’t shying away from him, but rather leaning into it and Dean smiled into Cas’s lips because he knew now that Cas wanted this too.

  
They pulled apart and basked in a smile together before heading back the way they had come. Sam and Kevin were already in their beds when the pair slipped downstairs, still holding hands. Dean let Cas go outside of his bedroom, but cradled his face as he kissed him gently goodnight. Castiel seemed dazed as he went into his room, and Dean undressed in a kind of stupor. He rather thought that his bed looked far too big for him, and after barely half a thought he was padding down the hall towards Castiel’s room. He nudged the door open and found Castiel standing in a pair of boxers and the shirt he slept in, looking at his own bed in much the same way Dean had.

  
“Hey,” Dean murmured by way of greeting. Smooth and classy as ever.

  
“Hey.”

  
He sidestepped Castiel and slid under the far side of the comforter on the bed. “Would you believe me if I said I was cold?”

  
Castiel laughed quietly as he turned out the light and got into bed himself. “No.”

  
Dean scooted across until he was pressed against Castiel’s side, one arm flung across his waist and Castiel’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. He tucked his head under Castiel’s chin, and hummed quietly when he felt a feather-light kiss brush his hair.

  
“G’night Cas.” He whispered into the skin bared by the top of his pajama shirt. “Wouldn’t want you falling over in your sleep, right?”

  
“Of course Dean.”

  
He fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of a hand running up and down the top of his arm.

  
Walking together became a kind of ritual for them, and when Castiel miraculously learned how to do Sam’s exercise in his balance lesson the next day, Dean smiled and applauded with his brother as Castiel grinned at him. They held hands each time they walked, now familiar with the music room and various labs they had discovered along the way. Dean also regularly “checked” Castiel’s back for new bruises, and insisted that they were there when Sam informed him he couldn’t see any.

  
“It’s the annoying kind that you can feel and not see, right Cas?”

  
Castiel made a noise of assent that turned into a groan as Dean kneaded his fingers into that spot above his shoulderblades. Sam rolled his eyes exasperatedly. He actually did observe things, you know. A person doesn’t just go from walking to disaster to a practical gymnast overnight, and Dean was doing miserably with hiding his obsession with Cas’s back. He’d forgotten to get out the bruise cream to maintain the charade, but Sam would let fools have their security.


End file.
